


Dreams Like Ships Lost At Sea

by flowersforgraves



Category: Machineries of Empire Series - Yoon Ha Lee
Genre: Gen, No Dialogue, Pre-Canon, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21600754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: A duel at Kel Academy.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: 300bpm Flash Exchange November 2019





	Dreams Like Ships Lost At Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zdenka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zdenka/gifts).



> [Is There Anyone Out There - Delta Rae](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhY9ABTfOYk)

Cheris breathes. She lifts her chin and drops her shoulders, loosens her arms and lets go of the tension in her chest. Her mouth curves into an involuntary smile, even as her brow furrows in concentration.

Duelling and math occupy the same place in her mind, which is probably not a statement that holds true for other people. But before an exam, just like before a duel, she gets rid of her extra thoughts, lets the cold void of space swallow her anxieties and distractions, focusses down to a clear, crisp point. She's even taken to thinking of it as the point of her calendrical sword, and she can imagine the point driving home past her opponent's guard and just barely brushing the duelling jacket.

Belonging, being Kel, is still a new concept. Cheris still feels herself stumbling around the new emotional landscape of formation instinct, but her fierce burning love for the Kel isn't different at all. She falls into line when she has to, takes initiative to be creative when she can, fades into the crowd every chance she gets. It makes her feel fulfilled in a way she didn't even know she was missing. 

She widens her stance, bends her knees slightly. Balancing on the balls of her feet, she lets her body move in familiar fluid patterns. Her blade comes up, and she focusses hard, blocks the strike from the left before flicking the tip of her sword up and over her opponent's, catching them on the wrist. 

In her mind's eye time slows down. Cheris feels a frisson run down her spine, a sensation almost like there's another person controlling her arm. She pulls back, withdraws into retreat as quickly as possible, but she's not fast enough to avoid her opponent's swords crashing flat-first into her ribs. 

The air rushes from her lungs, and as she hits the ground her focus shatters. All the stiffness of her muscles comes rushing in, the crystalline beauty of her point-focus replaced by a deluge of thoughts, like a sunrise erasing the clarity of night.

She accepts the hand offered and gets back to her feet quickly, before she takes another breath. She lifts her chin. Drops her shoulders. Loosens her arms. Lets out the tension in her chest.

The point of her calendrical sword doesn't waver.


End file.
